Entwined Destinies
by CaptainAtrocious
Summary: An original story. This is the tale of Meryl, half-Drow healer, Aramil, the Elven barbarian, and others! Rated M for violence, language, suggestive themes, and possibly some smutty bits in the future. Please R&R!
1. Hackdirt

The sky was a dull, iron grey in colour, heavy clouds hanging low as far as the eye could see. Rain drummed steadily onto the fresh spring grass, and patches of fog rolled by here and there. It was a chilly day, and a miserable one for travel, but two figures made their way slowly down the side of a road- avoiding treading on the road itself. It had at one point been a dirt road worn through this particular meadow by the repeated passing of horses and wagons. Now it was just a muddy trail that promised to suck the boots right off a person's feet if they tried to brave the mire.

The pair walked side by side, both wearing heavy cloaks to try and preserve themselves from the cold rain. The smaller of the two, a slight woman with grey skin and gentle lavender eyes, reached upward and tugged her hood up to stop it from slipping right off her head. "We picked an excellent week for travel, didn't we?" she asked, quiet laughter in her voice as she glanced upward at her companion.

The man, easily two feet taller than her, turned his head to look down at the woman. He had skin that was tanned from obvious time in the sun but his face bore numerous pale scars. His left eye was a rich, deep green in colour while the right was a milky white. A patchy bit of brown stubble was making a valiant attempt at growing on his chin and jaw, but it clearly wasn't that successful. His expression was hard and stoic as he glanced at the woman. After a long moment, he nodded.

The woman bit at her lip, expression crestfallen. "Aramil, I'm sorry. I didn't know it was going to rain- the weather looked so nice when we left Jarneby."

The tall man shook his head then, rolling a shoulder as he adjusted the weight of the greataxe he carried. His expression was oddly pained as he looked at her. "I didn't mean to upset you. The rain doesn't bother me. I am more concerned for you. You're going to catch a cold." He had a deep voice, one that seemed to reverberate in the slender woman's chest.

"Oh, I'll be fine," she chirped, expression immediately brightening. "Besides, we should get to the next town soon! And then we can sleep in an inn and have hot baths and everything."

Aramil's expression softened as he looked down at her for a moment longer. Then he turned his attention back to the road ahead. "As you say, Meryl."

The two continued on in comfortable silence then, the chilly rain not letting up as the meadow slowly turned to farmland. As they crested a small hill, the town of Hackdirt came into view below- a rather prosperous little place despite its name, by the looks of it.

Meryl frowned as they passed a farmhouse on the way to the village. "Aramil," she said quietly, "the farm…"

Turning his head in order to see what she was looking at, the man's expression soured. "It's been burned. Bandits."

Meryl squinted, shielding her eyes from the rain with a slim grey-skinned hand as she peered toward the village. "The village itself looks alright from here. I think they built a fence around the place to try to defend it."

As they neared Hackdirt, Meryl's observation proved to be accurate. The villagers had obviously erected a hastily-built and shoddy fence consisting of logs with sharpened sticks pointing away from the village as a deterrent.

All at once, Aramil put himself between the village and his companion, halting abruptly. An arrow whistled down and buried itself in the mud in front of his boot.

"H-halt! You there!" A boy's voice rang out, tense with nerves.

"Wait, please, don't shoot!" Meryl called, peering out from behind Aramil.

"What business do you have here?" The archer called uncertainly. He was a gawky-looking teenager with dirty blonde hair which was plastered to his face from all the rain.

"All arms and legs," Aramil grunted to Meryl, his gaze not leaving the boy who stood on the other side of the fence. "He's barely out of his diapers."

Meryl edged out from behind Aramil so she could see the boy properly. Her large companion made a rather effective wall. "We're travelers looking for a place to stay for the evening. We've come from Jarneby."

By now a few other villagers had realized something was going on, and had hurried over. Three more arrows were trained on them, all held by men of varying ages. The youngest was probably the teen who had shot at them in the first place, and the oldest looked like he was in his fifties.

"The big one's got an axe! How do we know you're not more bandits?" one of the men asked warily.

Aramil scowled. "Trust me, if I was a bandit I would have attacked already. This village's defenses are pitiful."

"Aramil!" Meryl scolded, hands on her hips.

"It's true." he said with a noncommittal shrug.

"Look, could we please speak to your village elder? Maybe we could take care of the bandits for you." Meryl offered as she turned her attention to Hackdirt's feeble line of defense.

The men conferred for a moment, huddled up and muttering to one another. After a moment, the eldest spoke. "We will allow you entry, but you have to leave the axe outside when you speak to the elder."

"That's more than fair. Thank you." Meryl replied with a grateful bow.

The two strode into the village, passing by the archers who eyed them warily.

"I don't like this," one of the older men muttered. "That dark-skinned lady did all the talking for that brute. I tell you she's probably a witch. And she looks Drow."

"But I thought Drow had black skin?"

"You know anyone else with skin like that? And besides, I tell you, that big guy looks like he doesn't care about having to leave the axe outside."

"Yeah, he looks like he could kill you about six different ways with his bare hands."

"You sure this is a good idea? I mean, the wizard's already offered to help us."

"What's one wizard gonna do to a camp of bandits?"

The discussion continued on in this vein, but Meryl took careful mental note of the talk of the wizard. Aramil clearly did as well, for his good eye shifted to glance down at her pointedly. He was offered a warm smile in return.

The two were led to one of the largest buildings in the town. Aramil hefted the enormous double-bladed axe from his shoulder and propped it against the wall outside the door. As they stepped inside and removed their rain-drenched cloaks, one of the archers gave a gasp.

"I TOLD you she was Drow!"

Meryl turned to the man and smiled kindly as she shook her long, white hair out. "Half-Drow, actually. Don't worry, I've no interest in harming anyone."

"You'd better not have any interest in that, else we'll gut ya quick." one of the archers muttered.

Aramil whirled about to face the man, who promptly shrank back against the wall in terror. Aramil was an elf, but he was easily the biggest, burliest, meanest-looking elf any of the villagers had seen. Standing at nearly eight feet in height, he glowered at the man. "Threaten her again and I'll-"

"Aramil," Meryl said gently, laying a hand on his arm. He visibly relaxed under her touch. "It's alright."

He just nodded wordlessly and turned away from the villager, who may or may not have soiled himself in his fear. The two travelers were wordlessly escorted to a large meeting room where a frail-looking little man was seated at a table. A younger-looking man in what appeared to be a dark red smoking jacket and black trousers was seated across from the elder, but they couldn't see the young man's face.

The elder, however, glanced up and nearly toppled out of his seat. "Wh- who are you?"

"Two travelers who wanted to talk to you about the bandits. They say they came from Jarneby." one of the archers said.

"I see. Thank you, Rudd," the elder said as he composed himself. Clearing his throat, he rubbed a hand along his whitened beard. "My name is Keric. I am the elder of this village."

Meryl gave curtsy, smoothing her hands over her white skirt. "I am Meryl, and this is Aramil. As your men said, we're travelers. We came here seeking shelter for the evening, but when we saw the state of the surrounding farmland and realized bandits were involved, we wanted to help."

Aramil watched as the man in the smoking jacket turned to look at them both. He was human and quite handsome, with a chiseled jaw, black hair, and a neatly-trimmed goatee. And he was eyeing Meryl like she was Sunday dinner. Aramil felt a muscle in his jaw tense, his mouth forming a grim line.

"- appreciate the offer of help, but this wizard, Sir Devlin, has already offered to aid us. We can scare afford to pay him, let alone anyone else." the elder was saying.

"That's not a problem at all, sir. Aramil and I would be happy to lend your village our aid in exchange for dinner and a good night's sleep at your inn." Meryl replied.

"You are most gracious. Would you object to the extra pairs of hands, Devlin?" Keric asked.

"Mmmm," Devlin mumbled as if pondering this. "Well, the bandits are undoubtedly well-fortified if they're in a protracted siege on this town. But what could this beautiful lady and her uh- elf- possibly do to help a wizard?"

"I'm a healer," Meryl said quickly, trying to make sure Aramil didn't reach out and strangle Devlin. "And Aramil is my bodyguard. He's more than capable of eliminating bandits."

"I see. Well, I would welcome the extra… hands, as it were." Devlin said, giving Meryl a smirk.

Her grey cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and she hurriedly turned her attention back to Keric. "In that case, sir, do we have a deal?"

"Of course, and I thank you on behalf of all of Hackdirt for offering your aid. I'll have someone show you three to the inn right away so you can have some dinner and discuss your plans."


	2. Evening

Well, it seems that I'm marathon-writing! Hopefully all this creativity hangs around, because I'm enjoying writing this story so far! By the way, this is an original story from the brain of yours truly, featuring Dungeons and Dragons characters I (and several of my friends) have played. For example, Aramil and Meryl are my duo, while Devlin was played by a friend of mine. Anyway, I hope you guys are enjoying this so far! Please read and respond!

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><p>Half an hour later, Meryl, Aramil, and Devlin were all seated around at a table in the common room of Hackdirt's inn, The Merry Keg. The table was laden down with enough food to feed five or six people, and it was a good thing. Aramil was eating like a horse, occasionally sending glares at Devlin from over his tankard or a pork rib. The elf also apparently didn't believe in wearing a shirt, and his trousers weren't in the best shape. His hair was brown and wild, and he generally looked like a rabid wolverine as he hunched over his plate.<p>

Devlin swirled his wine glass around, the red liquid catching the light nicely. "My dear Meryl, you're truly a gracious lady, offering assistance to these villagers for free."

"Aramil will be doing the killing, not me. We're just grateful to have a good meal and warm place to stay for the night." Meryl replied humbly, dipping her head in a bow.

"And so modest! I am sure your healing powers will be most useful," Devlin said silkily as he put his wine glass down in order to take a bite of roast quail. "Excellent bird. And the wine- so young and fresh."

"I thought that wine was better when it was older? That's what I'd always heard, anyway." Meryl said, clearly missing the innuendo in Devlin's tone. It hadn't escaped Aramil, however. Devlin was probably lucky that the giant of an elf was busy eating.

Devlin just laughed, dotting at the corner of his mouth with a linen napkin. "Oh, my lovely lady! All wines are exquisite, you know. It's all a matter of appreciating each and every vintage's particular beauty."

Meryl still wasn't getting it, her delicate brows furrowed. "Oh. I see." she said, the doubt in her tone making it obvious that she didn't see at all. Shrugging, the slender woman resumed eating her own dinner.

"Tell me, my lady, how did you ever come to travel with Armand?"

"Aramil." the elf grunted in-between bites of his dinner.

"Aramil has been with me since I was a child. He was my father's best friend, and he's looked after me since my father passed away." Meryl replied with a bright smile, glancing up at the enormous elf, who had managed to get crumbs and gravy all over his stubble.

"I see. That's quite noble! After all, it would be far too dangerous for such a beautiful young lady to travel alone." Devlin's hand began slithering its way across the table toward Meryl's. Aramil, however, 'accidentally' knocked a gravy boat over onto Devlin's hand as he reached for another biscuit.

Devlin yowled and withdrew his gravy-covered hand in a hurry. "Damn, that's hot!"

"Sorry." Aramil muttered around a mouthful of his biscuit.

"No need to apologize, Arnold. These accidents do happen." Devil replied smoothly as he wiped the gravy from his hand with his napkin.

"Aramil." the elf replied tonelessly.

"He certainly isn't a talker, is he? Well, just means I get to have the engaging lady all to myself in terms of conversation!" Devlin said, scooping up his wineglass and taking a sip.

"Er- Aramil doesn't talk much, but when he does people tend to listen…" Meryl trailed off, glancing almost beseechingly up at the enormous elf.

He got the hint. "On to business." was all he said.

Meryl let out a relieved breath. "Yes! Business. The elder said that the bandits are camped out in the bluffs to the west of town. With all this bad weather, they're likely to be waiting it out. If the past few mornings have been any indication, we'll have heavy fog before dawn."

"Aha! And that's when we'll strike, under the cover of fog! Such a clever strategist, my lady!" Devlin praised, resuming swirling his wine around in its glass.

"Th-thank you. Um, since we don't have any idea of what the camp's layout is, we'll need to be cautious going in. Still, if we strike early in the morning, they'll only have a few guards awake and we'll have the element of surprise on our side. If that sounds good to you two." Meryl said quietly, looking back and forth between the two.

"Brilliant, my lady. We should leave just before dawn then, yes?"

Aramil met Meryl's glance and gave a single, approving nod.

"We should get to bed early, then." Meryl said, rising.

"Of course. And which rooms will you two be staying in?"

"We're across the hall from your room, I think." Meryl replied.

"Wait, 'we're?' So… you two are…?" Devlin scowled.

Meryl's cheeks flushed, and she hurriedly shook her head. "I- Aramil is-"

"Her bodyguard." Aramil grunted. Hefting his axe up in one hand and grabbing Meryl's wrist in the other, he led the way up the stairs and to their room. Once inside, he immediately slammed the door shut and locked it, propping his greataxe up near the bed. The giant elf then began prowling around the small room like a caged animal.

"Aramil, what's the matter?" Meryl asked him quietly as she sat down on the edge of the bed.

"That wizard!" he snarled as he whirled to face her, his brown hair a tangled mess.

"Devlin? I know he wasn't exactly polite to you, but-"

"No!" he thundered, crossing the room in two broad strides and towering over her. "I don't give a damn what he thinks of me."

"Then what-"

"He desires you," Aramil growled low in his throat, turning and pacing away. "I don't like how he looks at you."

Meryl coughed and then shook her head, visibly flustered. "But- I'm not- I mean, I don't…"

Aramil was silent for a moment, then finally turned to glance down at her. "I know. I am sorry, Meryl. I didn't mean to raise my voice at you. I'm just- overprotective."

The young woman smiled faintly at him, her expression almost sad. "Will you let me comb your hair?" she asked quietly.

Obedient as a puppy, the enormous elf sat down on the floor in front of her, his back to her. He scooped up her small leather pack from its place on the floor near the bed and offered it up to her wordlessly.

Reaching in, she pulled a brush from the pack and began running it through his hair, gently but insistently working through the tangles. "How does your hair always get to be such a mess, Aramil?" she asked quietly.

He answered her in the form of a pleased rumble which seemed to emanate from his very chest, his eyes slipping shut. Tensed muscles in his shoulders slowly began to relax, and his scarred visage managed a lopsided little half-smile.

Meryl watched him as she brushed his hair in silence, taking in the sight of the burly elf. His chest, back, and arms were all littered with scars. Even his long, pointed ears bore signs of battle, a chunk of flesh cleaved out of the bottom of his left lobe. He was a man more comfortable in battle than anywhere else. While he didn't often speak, he communicated volumes through his body language. Meryl had become adept at reading him over the years and she knew now that despite his efforts to let the issue go, he still had half a mind to break Devlin's arms and legs.

A quiet sigh eased forth from the half-Drow's lips. This was her favourite time of day and these were her favourite moments. Still, despite how she'd watched Aramil over the years as she grew from gangly child to wistful teenager to young woman, she'd never once seen in him the one thing that she wanted with increasing fervor. Maybe he never would look at her like that. Maybe he would always see her as a child.

Placing the hairbrush aside on the bed, Meryl gazed at the back of his head for a moment, thoughts drifting. Just once, she wanted to kiss him. Her relationship with Aramil had always been so careful, so chaste. He was her bodyguard and her best friend and nothing more. He'd looked after her ever since she was a child. When her father passed away and she told him she was going to see the world, he hadn't hesitated- just packed up his few belongings and gone with her.

Presently, Aramil turned his head and glanced back at her with one green eye. Meryl smiled faintly. The way he looked at her made her stomach tie itself in knots. She'd seen him savage and murderous in battle, and yet he looked so gentle when it was just the two of them like this. The blinded eye and scars on the bridge of his note and his cheek and his jaw- none of them did anything to diminish just how… beautiful she found him. Maybe that wasn't the right word. Too dainty, too feminine. Handsome? Not strong enough. Not intense enough. Devlin was handsome. Aramil was… Aramil.

"All done?" he asked, his deep voice finally bringing her from her thoughts.

"Yes." she replied quietly.

Wordlessly, Aramil rose and strode a few paces away, turned away from her so she could change into her nightgown.

Meryl watched his back as she removed the shawl she kept tied around her waist and then the purple corset she wore over her white dress. Just once, she wanted him to turn while she was undressing like this, and kiss her. And then he'd guide her back to the bed and…

The young woman sighed as she tugged the nightgown on over her head. "I'm decent."

Aramil turned and nodded as she folded up her clothing and placed it aside. "You should sleep." he said quietly.

Meryl just nodded and climbed under the covers of the bed, gazing at him for a moment. "Good night, Aramil."

"Good night, Meryl." he said, watching her as she shut her eyes and quickly drifted off to sleep.

The burly elf checked to make sure the door was locked before taking a seat on the floor next to the bed, leaning back against the wall. He remained motionless there, sinking into a trancelike state as he rested. Asleep but still aware, he kept vigil throughout the night.


	3. Battle

And onward to chapter three! Things will HAPPEN in this chapter, y'all. Fighting! Adventure! And in Devlin's case, attempting to molest anything with breasts! …Hopefully people are actually reading this. Hopefully people didn't read the first two chapters and die of boredom. Anyhoo, if I DO have readers, please read and review!

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><p>Meryl, Aramil, and Devlin left The Merry Keg before dawn and made their way out of town in silence. The air was chilly and the grey clouds still loomed overhead, but the rain, at least, had let up for the moment. Dense walls of fog rolled across the meadow, obscuring the group's vision.<p>

"How far outside town did they say it was? This fog's got me all turned around." Devlin said, scowling.

"About a mile and a half. We should at least be able to see the bluffs soon. They said if we follow this steam, it should lead straight to the camp." Meryl replied, squinting as she peered ahead of them at the pleasantly-babbling stream.

Aramil remained silent, his huge, double-bladed axe hefted onto one broad shoulder. Devlin continued alternately chatting with and eyeballing Meryl, who endured this patiently enough, though she was, in Aramil's opinion, too damned polite. If she didn't want the perverted wizard looking at her like that, then she should have just hit him. Preferably in the face, with a blunt object.

Then again, he'd never seen Meryl hit anyone. She was so gentle. Maybe she could hit Devlin in the face with _his_ fist. Aramil peered down at one of his large, scarred hands. That could work.

Still, Aramil remained alert, his muscled tensed. Ready to spring into action at the first sign of danger, the burly elf took the lead. Up ahead, huge, dark shapes began to materialize out of the fog- the bluffs. And, as he could barely make out, tiny pinpricks of light at their base. Campfires.

Even Devlin fell silent as he realized they were nearing the bandit camp. It was quiet. He assumed that the bandits were still asleep. Gods only knew he wouldn't have minded being in bed right now. Maybe with a woman or three to keep him company. Still, there'd be time to think about all that later! After he saved the village from the bandits, for example.

Still, it was rather hard to think about anything else with Meryl walking in front of him. Those hips! And that rear end! How had that big elf- what was his name? Alan?- NOT bent her over a table already? Not that Devlin was complaining. That just gave him a better chance of getting into her dress.

The wizard was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he failed to notice Meryl and Aramil stop in front of him. He just kept on walking and blundered right into the half-Drow. And all of his thoughts that early in the morning coupled with the fact that he'd gone to bed alone the night before meant that he was more than just a little excited.

Meryl could have remained quiet if he'd just bumped into her. But feeling something poking at her backside was too much. The healer shrieked and jumped nearly a foot into the air.

Of course, the element of surprise was completely lost as the sound of a bunch of groggy, cranky, stinky, shouting, cursing bandits filled the air.

Aramil probably would have beheaded Devlin right there if not for the fact that they were terribly close to the camp and one of the bandits, half-dressed and clutching a sword, stumbled out of his tent and caught sight of them. The man immediately began hollering and causing a ruckus.

"Get out here! We got company!"

A frantically-cursing Devlin silenced the man permanently with a blast of arcane energy, but by then it was far too late. The rest of the bandits were up and ready to kill the trespassers.

One man, presumably the leader, was quickly organizing the others. "There's only three! Get out there and kill the two men! Watch out for the one without a weapon, he's a wizard! As for the woman, bring her here alive!"

The bandits were quick to respond. There were at least a dozen or so, and they all advanced on the three would-be heroes, armed with a variety of swords, daggers, maces, clubs, and various other instruments of death.

Aramil, however, was ready. The elf let out a snarl as he swung his massive axe around in a wide arc, the powerful muscles in his arms and chest rippling with the movement. Two bodies fell to the ground and two heads rolled away, cleaved neatly from their shoulders. Blood sprayed across the grass and onto the burly elf, who steadfastly put himself between the attackers and Meryl.

As one, the bandits attacked. They weren't particularly well-coordinated, but there were a lot of them and they all had weapons, which put them at something of an advantage. Devlin ducked out of the way as a sword whistled by over his head, but the bulk of the forces seemed to decide that Aramil was the more dangerous one.

The elf was fearless but they were vicious. Meryl gaped, wide-eyed and fearful, as ten of them attacked Aramil, swinging clubs and maces, daggers glinting silver as they moved in and pulled back covered in blood.

"Aramil!" she screamed, the blood turning to ice in her veins as she saw them dragging the giant of an elf down like a pack of dogs attacking a stag. She couldn't heal him if she couldn't get to him, and they had him completely surrounded. "Devlin, _help _him!"

The wizard cursed. Performing a complicated gesture with his hands and speaking words of power, he then slung an arm forward toward the cluster, a bolt of lightning arcing forth from his fingertips and striking the nearest bandit. The lightning arced to a second man and then a third, and they all fell away from the group, limbs twitching and spasming pathetically.

And then Aramil practically exploded out of the midst of the bandits. He was covered in deep gashes and bleeding profusely, but he was screaming at the tops of his lungs- no, not screaming. Roaring. Every muscle in his body seemed to be corded and taut and veins bulged outward against the skin of his neck. His axe was no longer in his hands, likely forgotten on the ground, but that didn't seem to matter.

Devlin stopped short, his eyes wide. He'd gone insane. That had to be it. That gargantuan elf had gone absolutely mad.

Aramil picked up the nearest bandit as if he was a doll and simply threw the man. The unfortunate bandit collided with the wall of the nearby bluff with a sickening crunching noise. Another was grabbed by the neck with one hand, the other hand coming to rest on his scalp. Screams and pleas for mercy were abruptly stifled as the elf tore the man's head clean off.

There was blood everywhere, bandits falling over themselves and each other in an attempt to get away from the berserk elf. Devlin found himself being violently ill, unable to stomach all the gore. Meryl was sobbing somewhere nearby, he could hear her crying- but he couldn't do anything about it. Every time he looked up he felt more bile rising in his throat.

The elf was still roaring like he'd come from Hell itself, and he dropped the last body to the ground. Now only the bandit leader was left, paralyzed with fear a few yards away. Blind with rage, Aramil scooped up the nearest weapon- a sword- and lunged toward the leader. The human attempted to turn and run, but it was far too late for that. Powered by the strength of battle-frenzy, the sword tore through the man, spine and all. Intestines spilled onto the ground below. Devlin vomited noisily again.

The sound seemed to draw Aramil's attention. His face still contorted into a bestial snarl, the enormous elf turned on Devlin and began advancing, sword raised.

"No!" Meryl shouted, finally managing to find her voice. Her cheeks were streaked with tears as she ran forward, nearly tripping and falling on the blood-slicked ground. Shaking like a leaf, the woman got between Aramil and Devlin. "Aramil, no! It's fine! It's over, we're okay!"

"…ryl-" the elf rasped, hesitating. He was covered in blood, his blood, the bandits' blood- but the sword fell to the ground. "- Meryl…"

Sobbing, the half-Drow threw her arms around him, heedless of staining her face and clothes. "Aramil… oh gods, Aramil…"

The elf's large hands shook as he clutched at her. His muscles slowly began to relax.

Devlin could only stare, finally recovered from his nausea. What in the Nine Hells had he just witnessed?

"Here, we need to get you washed up and healed," Meryl was saying tenderly as she led him toward the stream. He followed, as gentle and obedient as a lamb, and sat down in the cold water. He didn't complain about the cold, but simply remained still as a statue as the half-Drow set about washing the blood off of him as best as she could. Once she'd gotten his injuries cleaned up, the woman placed her hands over each one in turn, her eyes fluttering shut as she summoned a spell of healing. Aramil's wounds began to knit shut, and Meryl breathed a sigh of relief.

At last, Devlin managed to speak. "Wh-what the Hell! That damned elf's a lunatic!"

Aramil didn't look at the wizard, but Meryl's frowned bitterly. "Don't you ever say that about him!" she cried, rising and advancing on him. "He just saved our lives, you know!"

"I could have handled them! A good fireball would have taken care of the lot of them, and I wouldn't have had to go insane and rip all of them apart in order to get the job done!"

"I don't care what you would have done differently! Don't you ever insult him again!" Meryl managed to choke out, looking as though she might cry again.

"He's a damned berserker and you WANT him around you! You're crazy too, aren't you? How long have you been traveling with him knowing what he is?" Devlin demanded, his arms crossed.

"What do you care?"

"I care because he could have snapped off at any point and started killing people in the village!"

"Aramil would never hurt an innocent person!"

"You can't control a rabid animal and you can't keep a berserking monster from killing people, either!"

"Enough," Aramil finally spoke up in his deep voice, still raspy from shouting. Immediately, the two fell silent, staring at him. He rose from the stream, water running off his body in rivulets as he glanced back and forth between the two. His gaze finally settled on Devlin. "I can tell you this. So long as Meryl is near, I will not harm an innocent."

Angrily, Devlin threw his hands in the air and turned, storming off toward Hackdirt. The healer and the elf followed in silence.


	4. Journey

"On behalf of all the people of Hackdirt, thank you. You've saved us all." Keric said, managing a creaky-limbed bow. He rubbed a wrinkled hand across his beard and regarded the three travelers. They'd all had the good sense to wash up before returning to Hackdirt to speak to the elder, but Aramil's trousers and boots were still stained with blood, as was Meryl's dress.

"Please sir, think nothing of it. It was the right thing to do, and we were happy to help." Meryl said with a smile.

Devlin watched her in silence. She was so prim and ladylike! And with those kind smiles and gracious words… He wouldn't have believed that she was traveling with a savage berserker if he hadn't seen it himself.

Still, the wizard thought ruefully, he had to give credit where it was due. The elf made an effective bodyguard. The bandits hadn't even gotten near Meryl. But how could she feel safe traveling with him? Just because he hadn't gone all crazy and killed her yet didn't mean he might not in the future.

"-for Sir Devlin, here is the reward money we promised you." the elder was saying, extending a leather pouch swollen and jangling with coins.

The wizard stepped forward and took the bag with a bow. "Thank you."

The audience with the elder over, the three left the building and stepped out onto the street. An uncomfortable moment of silence passed between them.

It was Meryl who finally spoke first. "So, Devlin, where will you be going from here?" she asked politely.

"I'm not sure, actually," he replied. Traveling with the pair would prove to be dangerous, but they seemed to be far more interested in do-gooding and charity work… which meant that he'd make more reward money. "Where will you two go?"

Meryl glanced upward toward Aramil, her gaze questioning. He shrugged indifferently. Looking back to Devlin, the healer opened her mouth to speak.

"Hey! Those are the ones who killed the bandits!" a man's voice rang out. A flock of seven or eight villagers ran over, thronging around the adventurers.

"We went to the bluffs to see the camp for ourselves!" a younger man gibbered. "You killed all of them! Dead!"

"And you cut their leader in half!" another man spoke up, gaping at the burly elf.

"Yeah, went right through the spine and everything!"

"Oughta call him Spinecleaver!"

"Yeah!" a chorus of voices agreed.

Aramil endured all this patiently, his expression stoic. Meryl, however, looked to him and smiled a bit. "Aramil Spinecleaver. Sounds catchy." she said with a gentle laugh.

Devlin stroked thoughtfully at his goatee. It actually did have a good ring. Made the elf sound menacing. A name like Spinecleaver would spread through the countryside like wildfire. He'd soon be asked to take care of all sorts of dangerous monsters- and Devlin could be around to reap the benefits if he traveled with the two.

"My dear Meryl," he finally said, voice silky, "I was wondering if you two would welcome another companion until our paths deviate from one another."

Aramil scowled, but a gentle hand on his arm kept him civil.

"We'd be honored to have you journey with us. Having a wizard around would make things much easier." Meryl said with a gracious smile.

"Then it's settled! Where will we go?"

"We could follow the river to Brightwater. They're sure to have a lot of jobs that need doing." Meryl suggested.

Devlin nodded approvingly. "Brightwater's a large port. And if nothing else we can cross the sea and look for work elsewhere."

Aramil just nodded. The three managed to squeeze away from the group of excited villagers and off they went.

Devlin watched his two newfound companions carefully. It would be dangerous hanging around them, but he could always brush up on his sleep spells. That way if the elf got out of control he could just knock the lunatic out. And besides, the longer he traveled with them, the better chance he had of nailing the pretty little half-Drow.

So it wasn't all bad! He'd just have to be careful. If he played his cards right, he could end up very rich from this little partnership.

The atmosphere was overall a cheerful one as the three traveled southeast out of the village, walking alongside a muddy road. It was well after noon and the sky was still grey, but the clouds looked as though they were parting on the horizon. A faint band of blue sky seemed to beckon the adventurers forward.

"Once we hit Brightwater River, we can follow it south to Brightwater Port. The journey should take about three days, depending on if we make good time or not." Meryl said cheerfully.

"You're so learned, my sweet lady. How do you know so much of geography?" Devlin apparently wasn't letting up on the flattery. He brushed a hand over the front of his deep red smoking jacket before adjusting the weight of his leather backpack.

Meryl shifted uncomfortably, not used to such blatant attention. "I- my father taught me. He wanted me to be knowledgeable." Knowledgeable so she could survive in the world on her own. The healer's expression grew distant, sad. He'd always known that she was going to travel the world. She never would have been content to stay home all her life and never see all the good and the beauty in the world.

She missed him. She missed the sound of his voice as he tutored her, maps rolled out across the kitchen table as he pointed out safe passages through mountain ranges. She missed how he'd take her into the woods to show her what different herbs looked like and told her what they could be used for.

And then there was the look in his eyes that he never thought she noticed, when she'd catch him staring out the window in the evenings. Drow women weren't supposed to be capable of love, she'd heard. But she wondered if her mother hadn't loved her father. She knew he'd been captured while exploring a series of caves, and that he'd been taken as a slave in the Underdark. But he wouldn't tell her anything more of her mother.

"Meryl?" Devlin asked, abruptly tugging her from her thoughts.

"Hm? I'm sorry, I was off in my own little world, I suppose." she said, a swift, apologetic smile blanketing her face and hiding her sorrow.

"Quite alright. I was just wondering where we were going to camp for the night. We'll be losing light soon, my dear."

"Oh- of course," the healer mumbled, craning her neck as she looked around for a suitable place to make camp.

Aramil raised a hang, pointing toward a copse of trees a short walk away. "There. By the river."

"River? I don't see the river." Devlin protested.

"There are trees. The river will be there." the elf just grunted and set off toward the copse. Meryl shrugged, offering Devlin a smile, and set off after her bodyguard. Grumpily, the wizard followed.

Aramil's certainty proved to be well-placed. As they neared the trees, the sound of running water became more and more obvious. The site had clearly been used as a camp before, for there was a small clearing in the midst of the trees. A circle of stones still waited patiently for a campfire.

The elf inspected the wood and sticks laying around the copse and looked to Meryl, shaking his head.

"Too wet to build a fire, huh?" she asked with a sigh.

Now it was Devlin's turn to put the elf in his place. "Irrelevant, my dear! Allow me to work my magic and we'll have a fire in no time."

"Oh- okay." Meryl said and began gathering up wood for fuel. Aramil moved to help her, and soon they'd piled up the wood and tinder and readied it for whatever tricks Devlin had up his sleeve.

The wizard gave a few gestures, mumbling under his breath, and the logs ignited into a bright, cheerful blaze.

"Oh! Thank you, Devlin!" Meryl exclaimed happily, warming her hands near the fire.

"Not a problem, my lady," Devlin suddenly gave a start, looking around. "Uh- where'd the elf go?"

Aramil was indeed gone. Meryl shrugged. "Ah. I suppose he went to go catch some dinner. He should be back soon." The healer sat down by the fire and reached into her pack, pulling out an iron pot that shouldn't have fit into the small container. This was joined by several potatoes and a few carrots as well. She began chopping up the vegetables and putting them in the pot, a few whispered words conjuring up some pure water, which filled the pot.

Devlin sat down nearby and just watched her work, admiring the way her long white hair fell about her face. Well, he was getting a free meal tonight, it seemed. This was working out in his favour, considering all he'd had to do was conjure up a fire. The half-Drow was such a pretty little thing, but she looked so damned sad when she didn't think anyone was watching her.

"You love him, don't you?" the wizard asked suddenly.

The knife nearly slipped from Meryl's hand, and she busied herself with chopping the potatoes. "Yes." was all she said, her voice quiet.

"I thought so. And he…?"

"He's looked after me since I was a child. I think he still sees me as such."

"But you're a beautiful young woman!" Devlin exclaimed, sidling closer to her. "A man would have to be crazy not to notice that."

A rueful smile quirked at her lips, her gaze still fixed on her task. "Thank you."

"Come on, you've obviously pined after him for years now. How much longer are you going to wait?"

"I don't know."

"You're wasting your life, though."

"He's wasting his life following me around and taking care of me. Is it really any different?"

Devlin was silent for a moment, not expecting that response. "But… I mean, it's his choice to follow you like that. It's not your choice that he's ignoring you as a woman."

Meryl didn't say anything more. She just quietly cleaned the knife and put it away. Realizing he'd maybe pushed his point a little too far, Devlin scooted away and pulled out a pipe, lighting it. The wizard watched her, puffing at the pipe and blowing smoke rings, until the elf stalked back to the camp, carrying a pair of dead rabbits by the ears.

Wordlessly, Aramil took the cleaned knife and ventured a short distance away to skin the rabbits and ready them to be put in the stewpot.

Devlin continued to watch as Meryl looked after the elf and then back to her hands. She was stubborn in her feelings, it seemed, but he could win her over in time. He'd just play to her romantic side. With a yawn, the wizard pulled his bedroll from his backpack and laid it out on the ground. "I think I'll have a nap while dinner cooks." he said. Within minutes, he was snoring.

Aramil shifted to look at Devlin for a moment before fixing his glance on Meryl. "What's wrong?"

The healer stiffened, unsure of how to answer. "It's… it's been a long day, that's all." she replied quietly.

"Did he try to touch you?" the elf's tone was low but sharp.

"No, no. Nothing like that. I'm just a little worn out."

She knew he didn't believe that she was alright, but he didn't press the issue. Instead the giant elf remained silent, just watching her.

"May I brush your hair? Before dinner, while Devlin's still asleep."

His expression softened by degrees and he moved to sit down in front of her. Meryl scooped her hairbrush out of her pack and began running it through his messy brown hair, combing out tangles. Unfortunately for them, Devlin was a light sleeper and hearing his name woke him up- though he didn't give any indication of being awake. The wizard cautiously squeezed one eye open, watching the two.

The sight of Meryl brushing Aramil's hair, tears silently tumbling down her cheeks, left him feeling oddly empty.


End file.
